Mrs. Nichols blinks back a tear. A few moments of awkward silence follow.
“We love you, Kate,” she finally says. “We both love you,” she clarifies, gesturing to Dr. Nichols, who remains stoic. “We knew you were right for Chase from the moment we first met you.” My mind replays that first very awkward night at the Nichols' cabin, and I know my earlier assumption was correct.
“We all thought the relationship moved fast,” my dad admits. “But Chase is a very impressive young man. He has a good head on his shoulders – I can tell he was raised well,” he nods his affirmation to Dr. and Mrs. Nichols. Thankfully, my dad has recovered his charming ability to put everyone at ease with his words.
Dr. Nichols' face softens a little as he nods a thank you to my father.
“Of course, we were a little concerned at first, Kate, because we didn't want Chase to get hurt. He's been through a lot,” Mrs. Nichols tells me.
“I know,” I agree. “I know. Chase has told me so much of what he's gone through in the past four years. To be honest, I think I loved him even before I knew about the accident. But now I am even more dedicated to helping him get through this. I promise I will never hurt him.”
I'm slowly realizing that the heated discussion that I had prepared for is not going to happen. Everyone seems to have come to some level of acceptance of our engagement. Of course, this is a whole new ball game, with Chase lying in a coma.
I still feel a bit uneasy about Dr. Nichols lack of enthusiasm, but I decide that I won't let it make me uncomfortable around my fiance. Chase needs me to be strong.
I reiterate to all of them, “I love Chase. Forever.” I simply have to hope that Dr. Nichols will eventually warm up to me.
Kellie comes back with a PCT so that she can check Chase's stitches. I position myself a little way behind Kellie as she and the PCT get to work. I gasp out loud at the sight of the scar. I'm not usually bothered by stitches, but they're very new and the scar seems to span most of his back. Not only is my fiance in a coma, he has been torn wide open and sewn back together. Chase has always seemed so robust, but I suddenly find myself worrying, Is he strong enough to fight his way back?
Doctors and nurses come and go over the next few hours. The ICU is a surprisingly busy place. Chase is receiving almost constant attention, which gives me some relief.
Dr. Horowitz, the neurologist, arrives. He is an elderly gentleman with a thick accent which I can't quite place. He is short and slim, but his face is layered with numerous wrinkles, so many that he remind me of a Shar-Pei. He is extremely tender as he introduces himself to us, shaking each of our hands warmly and firmly. He maneuvers through the small room to assess Chase's condition.
He proceeds to tell us that Chase is in a deep coma, meaning that he is completely unresponsive. Dr. Carbondale had already told us that, but now it seems more official, coming from the neurologist.
He explains that Chase isn't opening his eyes, and he is not able to move or speak. He seems to be completely unattached to the world outside. The doctor emphasizes the word “seems” because, although it appears to us that Chase isn't responding, he still may have some understanding of what is going on around him. He ends by telling us that he hopes Chase's condition will improve quickly. Due to his age, health and the speed with which the surgeons revived him, there is a good chance he will “return.”
Once again, the nausea has returned, and I decide that I might just have to live with it. Maybe I'll have to carry around an air-sickness bag. I'm still trying to have as much courage as possible, but my feelings aren't necessarily cooperating with my brain.
Kellie comes back in and says, “I'm guessing that I'm not going to convince either one of you to leave tonight.” She nods at Mrs. Nichols and myself. “We are only supposed to allow one visitor to stay overnight. But,” she changes her voice to a whisper, “I won't tell anyone if you don't.” She offers to bring another blanket and pillow, which I gratefully accept. She also informs my father and Dr. Nichols that there are extra pillows and blankets in the family lounge. Even though they had brought my father's bags to the Nichols' house, I know they won't leave the hospital just yet.
I'm already drifting off at Chase's side when my dad kisses me good-night.
Chapter 13
I've had a surprisingly good night's sleep, considering I slept on a small strip of hospital bed and Kellie came in every single hour to check Chase's vitals.
Dr. Carbondale stops by early in the morning to check on us. I ask him about the spine surgery. “Is there any way to know if it's going to work?” I ask, hoping for one piece of encouraging news. But the doctor admits that there is no way to know yet. He will be able to evaluate the success of the procedure after the swelling goes down, and once Chase is awake.
I really hate to leave the room, but I realize I haven't talked to my mom since I arrived yesterday. I gently nudge Mrs. Nichols to tell her I'm going out to the visitors' lounge to make a phone call. She nods and drifts back to sleep.
It's still quite early, but my mom picks up on the first ring. I fill her in on everything I know. Just before we say good-bye, I ask, “Mom, would you mind calling Pastor Koskinen for me?” I hesitate for a moment, not knowing how my mom will respond. “Will you please ask him if he's free the first weekend in May? Chase and I want him to marry us.”
I expect a barrage of objections, or at least some attempt to talk me into waiting a bit before planning a wedding. But my mom only says, “Of course, I'll call him.”
I stop at a snack bar that is conveniently located on our floor. I bring some coffee to Dr. Nichols, my dad and Mrs. Nichols, who has awakened and is talking quietly to Chase. She gratefully receives it and sits down for a few minutes to enjoy it.
I resume my bedside vigil. I excitedly tell Chase, “my mom is going to call Pastor Koskinen today, to see if he can perform our wedding ceremony.” Instead of crawling back in bed, I decide to stretch Chase's arms out. I gently use the techniques I used to use on my grandma, carefully pulling his arms out to the side and then stretching them over his head. I massage them a little and then stretch out his fingers. Next, I move on to his legs. All the while, I talk to him. “You can't just lie there and be lazy all day,” I tease. “You have to stay in shape.” As I squeeze my fingers in between his toes, I laugh, “I've never seen your toes before. It's been too cold to go barefoot, hasn't it? That would be as silly as me wearing those ridiculous gloves to work. But when summer comes, you can be sure I'll get these toes into Lake Superior.”
Mrs. Nichols has been listening to me talking to Chase. She evens smiles when I start talking about his toes.
Another nurse, Anita, comes in just after 8:00 AM, and tells us she will be taking care of Chase for the next shift. She's a beautiful young Hispanic woman who can't be much older than me. She is sweet and energetic, but not quite as bubbly as Kellie. She tells me that she is going to start by giving Chase a bath.
“Would you like to help?” She asks.
I agree, feeling a little awkward with my future mother-in-law standing right there. But she quietly excuses herself and Anita gets to work uncovering Chase. My dad and Dr. Nichols had come in briefly to check on Chase, and they are now making their way to the cafeteria for breakfast. I assume Mrs. Nichols will join them.
Breakfast, I think. I will have to find something to eat later.
The muscles in Chase's chest and arms are so defined. I appreciate the second glance at his muscles; I had only seen his bare chest once through Skype. Sweaters and coats had kept it covered when we were in Eagle Canyon. Anita continues unsnapping and uncovering, but she leaves a thin sliver of sheet covering his hips. “We'll let you keep some of your dignity,” she says to him with a smile, and I'm relieved. It hadn't really occurred to me that we would be bathing him everywhere. She quickly fills a small pan with warm water and hands me a sponge. I start with his shoulders and arms and then work my way down his chest. I skip over his “sheet” and move to his legs, feet, toes.
“Would you like me to step out while you finish?” she asks, gesturing to the area covered by the sheet.
“Um, no, that's okay. Would you take care of that?” My face is burning bright red at that point, but I recover quickly and ask, “Can I wash his hair?”
Anita hands me a bottle of dry shampoo. She says we can eventually use water if we have to, but the dry shampoo will do the trick for a few days. I carefully remove the surgical cap and begin running my fingers through his hair with a bit of shampoo on the tips. “You know I've always loved this part of you,” I tell him. “Remember when I first met you? I really was staring at your hair. I can't have you neglecting this beautiful head of yours.” Anita smiles as I talk to him. I take much longer than necessary to massage his scalp and run my fingers through his locks.
Anita finishes washing his covered area – I only sneak a small peek and then blush furiously again before looking away. She has him completely dressed and covered by the time I am done with his hair. I don't put the ugly cap back on his head, and I am pleased to step back and see that he looks more like my Chase.
I spend the rest of the day talking to Chase, conversing with doctors, together with Chase's parents, sending quick emails from my phone to update my friends and family.
Just before dinner, a familiar face pops into the doorway of the room, a familiar face with an already-bulging belly.
“Chelsea!” I'm excited to see my future sister-in-law and her growing baby bump. She greets me with the warmest hug possible, one that tells me she is definitely looking forward to having me join her family.
“Sorry we missed you yesterday – Mike and I had to leave before you arrived.” She turns toward Chase. “How's my baby bro?” She asks.
“See for yourself,” I motion to Chase. “He looks a little more like himself today, doesn't he?”
She nods in agreement. She moves to Chase's side and starts talking to him.
I find that I am increasingly thankful for the bustling activity of the ICU. Plus, Chase's parents and my dad are always nearby. I don't have much time to let my brain wander to the “what-if's” of Chase's condition yet. I take it one moment at a time. And that's all I can handle for now.
It's my second morning to wake up in the hospital, but it already feels like I live here. My dad brought my overnight bag to the hospital so that I can at least brush my teeth and hair, and maybe change my clothes. If I'm willing to leave Chase's side for that long.
A bit later in the morning, an elderly woman stops by. She is visiting from one of the nearby Catholic churches. Mrs. Nichols has stepped out for a minute. Since Chase is listed as a Roman Catholic, the elderly woman wonders if we need anything. Would we like a priest to come by to offer Chase the Anointing of the Sick?
Does that mean he's dying? I wonder.
The kindly woman quickly offers, “It's a blessing with holy water and oil and some special prayers for your husband to recover quickly.”
I smile at her mistake and breathe a small sigh of relief that he's not on the church's “dying” list. I tell her that, yes, we would like a priest to come in, answering on behalf of the Nichols, assuming they will appreciate the visit.
When Mrs. Nichols returns with a breakfast sandwich and biggest cup of coffee I've ever seen, I gratefully accept them. To my surprise, I scarf down the entire sandwich. Did I even eat yesterday? I try to remember. Then I get to work on the monster cup of coffee. The very first swallow holds that familiar caffeine-laden promise to help get me through the day.
I inform Mrs. Nichols that a priest will be coming in to bless Chase later today. She seems happy to hear it, as I predicted.
After I've spent a good amount of time stretching Chase's arms and legs and I decide it's time to resume my favorite sleeping spot and catch a snooze next to my “husband.” My nap doesn't last long, however, when I hear an unfamiliar voice greet Mrs. Nichols. A tall, skinny young man is embracing her in a bear hug and then pulls back and says, “I'm so sorry that you're going through this.”
He obviously hasn't noticed me yet, because when he turns to make his way over to Chase, he stops abruptly.
“Oh, hi there....” he says, clearly waiting for me to fill in the missing information.
I smile at the chance to use my new title again, “I'm Kate, Chase's fiancee.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Kate. I've heard a lot about you. But the fiancee part is new. Congratulations!” I'm Dave Farraday, Chase's college roommate.” He gives me an enormous hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek.
Mrs. Nichols interrupts and says, “Well, that, and Dave has been his best friend since they were in preschool.”
I chuckle with recognition, “Oh, Dave,” I say in an exaggerated tone. “Chase has told me some fascinating stories about you.”
He laughs and says, “I'll bet he has.”
He loses the mirth in his voice and asks, “So, how is he today?”
“Not much different,” I admit. “He's been in a coma since Thursday.”
“Hmm, a couple days, then? Chase is tough; he'll come out of this. He will, Kate.” I am comforted by his assurance as he looks me in the eyes.
I'm touched as Dave turns to Chase and grabs his right hand, as if he's shaking it. Then he talks to Chase as if he's awake, sitting with him at the bar or in their dorm room. “Hey, Bud. How 'ya doing? You know you'd better wake up soon or I'm going to start telling Kate some of your fascinating stories.”
I laugh at the idea of Chase making mischief with his best friend. I imagine the three of us, sitting around a table, having a beer and listening to the guys trying to outdo each other with humiliating stories from their school days. I close my eyes and hope that, if I just keep imagining the scene, our surroundings will magically change.
Dave eventually stops talking to Chase and returns his attention to me. “So, you're engaged? Chase didn't waste any time, did he?”
“No,” I agree. “I know it seems really fast, but we just clicked right away, and it didn't take long for us to realize we were right for each other.” I hesitate. “Does it seem weird to you that it happened so quickly?”
“It's a little surprising, but Chase has always been solid. He only had a few other girlfriends before the accident. After that, his focus was all about therapy and treatment. But he is tenacious, I'll give you that. When he knows what he wants, he goes for it.” I blush, knowing that Dave has just confirmed that Chase really did fall in love with me at first sight.
Dr. Nichols and my dad return just as Dave is leaving. Dave gives Dr. Nichols a hearty handshake and they catch up for a bit.
My dad puts his arm around my shoulders as I stare at my fiance. “How are you doing today?”
I lean my head on his shoulder and tell him, “I don't know. I'm just moving through each moment, not really thinking about it too much. When I do get a chance to think, I start to get kind of angry. It's not fair, you know? I just found Chase, and now, I might lose him.” I finish in a hushed voice, forcing back tears.
“You won't lose him, Kate. You heard the doctors – he's healthy and strong. And he loves you. He's a lucky man to be getting my girl as his wife.” He kisses my head and squeezes my shoulders. “He's not going anywhere.”
Lunch time comes and goes. Then, more doctors, nurses, and vitals checks. More talking to Chase, more poking and prodding to get him to respond. It's becoming what feels like a never-ending cycle, even thought it's only been a few days.
During an exceptional lull in the activity, a short young man dressed in black arrives. He's wearing a white collar. It registers in my brain that he must be the priest from Chase's church, but I can't believe a priest could be so young. He's only in his late 20's as far as I can tell. Every priest I've met before has been at least 50 years old.
Mrs. Nichols greets him with a friendly hug and exclaims, “Father Michael! Thank you for coming.” She turns to me and makes the introductions.
“Father Michael went to school with Chelsea,
” she informs me.
It must be strange for her to call her daughter's high school friend Father.
Father Michael retrieves a few items from his pocket: two small bottles, one of holy water and one of oil. As he recites the prayers, he uses the water and the oil to trace crosses on Chase's head. It's a new experience for me, but the ritual quiets my heart.
Father Michael finishes the prayers. He informs us on the way out, “there is a chapel downstairs, on the first floor, if any of you would like a quiet place to pray.”
He hasn't been gone long when I decide. “I'm going to the chapel,” I announce. “I won't be gone long. Please come and get me if anything happens.”
After stopping two or three times to ask for directions, I find the small room. It's a simple space with a wooden cross hung on the wall and three rows of chairs. The walls are covered in a soothing shade of blue. The room must be well insulated, because it is very quiet and peaceful. There is a basket holding about ten different Bibles. The room has a distinct smell, not completely unpleasant, but something like burnt vanilla.
I sit down. I'm not sure what to do or say. I feel out of my element, being so far from home. I remain still for a bit, but my whimpers break the silence. Whimpers that quickly turn into huge, ugly, body-wracking sobs. I sound like a little kid who just fell off her bike and scraped her knee. I let myself cry for a long time.
Then I speak in a hoarse whisper, “God, I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want me to do. I'll do anything if you save Chase. Please don't let him die.”
I hope for an earth-shattering revelation. Instead, I have a small stirring in my heart. The words, “Trust me” come into my head. I've been drifting away from God for several years, but I'm pretty sure I didn't make those words up in my brain. I know I just heard God speak to me.
“How can I trust you? I'm so afraid that Chase is going to die. You can't take him away. Please don't take him away.” I listen intently because I want to hear God's voice again. I want Him to assure me that Chase won't die, that he will wake up soon.
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